


its thanksgiving get nasty

by tonesplash



Category: Twilight Series - All Media Types, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: AFAB reader - Freeform, Charades, Dirty Talk, F/M, Foot Jobs, Injury, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mild Language, Not Beta Read, Public Sex, Reader-Insert, Thanksgiving Dinner, Vaginal Fingering, i dont blame her tbh, inappropriate use of vampiric speed, kinda im just being cautious, mild exhibitionism, reader doesn't like their family, sorry - Freeform, your cousin wants to fuck him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-17 20:00:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29231175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tonesplash/pseuds/tonesplash
Summary: you get bored at thanksgiving dinner. unfortunately for edward you wore sandals
Relationships: Edward Cullen/Reader, Edward Cullen/You
Comments: 1
Kudos: 31





	its thanksgiving get nasty

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this in 24 hours any typos aren't my problem anymore

When you told him thanksgiving with your family would be boring, you’d meant it’d be for _him_ , dying to see his reaction to being on the receiving end of your bloodlines ridiculousness while you’d get to have dinner and a show. But, as it turns out, your family just so happens to get along with Edward much better than they do with you.

The seating situation is a little unconventional because your boyfriend-snatching cousin stole the open seat next to Edward before you even walked in the room, leaving your only viable option directly opposite of him. At least that gave you the option of clamping his leg between your shoes when he’d said something to embarrass you.

Bless his soul, he’d done his best to bring you into the conversation but apparently, anything you had to say about your relationship had been relayed verbatim to the family group chat you were not in by your mother. So, after the third time you’re talked over by the aforementioned horny cousin or nosy relative on you’re bored out of your mind. Everyone must’ve gotten over your piss poor table manners years ago, or just completely ignoring you at this point because there were no protests when they’d brought the turkey out and you’d slumped low in your seat like a child in church.

Twitter had stopped refreshing ten minutes ago, and when you finally resigned yourself to tuning back into the conversation, your mother was showing him your baby pictures again. Idly swinging one bare foot under the table, a toe grazes the leather of his dress shoe under the table when you get an idea.

You’d lost a sandal earlier after Edward had pinned it under his shoe, exhausted of your pinching and dirtying of his slacks with your filthy soles. When your arch first presses flat against his shin, Edward doesn’t visibly react, just shifting his leg away, leaving yours to slip to the floor until you plant your heel on the seat of the chair. The conversation lulls for a moment as everyone digs in, and he uses the opportunity to grab your ankle and send you a warning glare over the top of your phone.

You meet his gaze and boorishly eat a spoon of mashed potatoes, shrugging as if he couldn’t read in your mind exactly what you were about to do. 

Your cousin asks about his _mom car_ again and when you roll your eyes Edward flicks the outside of your fibula, sure to a bruise, and you crinkle your nose, pinching his marble thigh as best you can through his pants.

“Well my father thought it was necessary for my siblings and I to-” 

While he speaks, he's soothing the skin of your foot, playing in the stubble leftover from your shoddy shave job this morning, and the absent affection just inspires you to further push your luck. You tease the seam of his left leg with the very tips of your toes, the unnatural heat of the venom rushing through him already building in the crotch of his pants, the room temperature of the rest of his body making it seem even hotter in comparison.

He inhales on a forkful of corn almost taking it down the wrong pipe, and you fight a smile around the bowl of the spoon as he flawlessly recovers and finishes the thought. You wonder if he can teach you to be that smooth someday. For now, you press further, pressing a toe against the seam over his cock, stroking up and down as slowly and consistently as you can while stretched under a table because who would’ve thought that footjobs are kind of an athletic feat. 

Edward taps insistently at your leg, harder than he normally would, and you have to hold back a laugh at the idea of him splitting the table because he can’t take a little footsie action. You press forward again, arch encompassing his hardness through the fabric, toes curling against his pubic bone when-

“ _Ho-oly shit_!” Searing pain shoots up from your ankle, and you double over, using everything in you not to shout, Edwards dawning mortification going unnoticed as everyone at the table turns to you at your unexpected outburst. 

“(Y/n)?” Your mother doesn’t seem that happy to have dinner interrupted, and you clutch your stomach as a quick cover.

“Uh, my bad.” You snicker nervously at the sudden attention, bravado gone. “I actually need to use the bathroom, I think,” you lick your lips. “Lady problems.”

The table erupts in a cacophony of gags and groans as the notion of a menstrual cycle is brought up in casual conversation, and it gives you the perfect cover to retreat to the upstairs bathroom. It takes you a minute to make it up the stairs without causing a scene, and just as soon as you close and lock the door behind you and settle down to weep in peace, he’s there, jiggling the doorknob like it’s a drug bust.

“Let me in.”

You’re apparently taking too long because as soon as your injured foot touches the floor, he forces the lock and slips in, shutting the door a little too fast to pass as human. 

“Jesus! Edward, are you trying to lose our deposit?” He doesn’t respond, wordlessly setting you up on the counter, kneeling to examine your injured ankle, cool fingers soothing to the sore skin. You sit in silence, idly swinging your other leg to distract yourself.

“How did you escape?” You can't imagine they’d let the guest of honor go so easily.

“You forgot your bag, I told them I’m just bringing it up to you.” He places your purse next to you as evidence. “Maybe you should start carrying menstrual products for when you actually need them.”

Of course, he breaks your foot and wants to lecture you on responsible uterus care. Edward sighs, taking your foot with the gentlest touch and whispering a kiss into the skin. “It’s a sprain, but I’m still sorry.” 

“S’Okay.” Your face burns, not expecting his guilt. “Serves me right, huh?” You titter, poking his side with your uninjured foot. He swipes it up before you can start again, halfheartedly laughing with you. 

“Let me wrap it before you get any more ideas.” You hand him the compression wrap from the medicine cabinet, and he immediately gets to work. The wince you give at the pressure is more reflex than anything, but the anxious expression on his face tells you he wasn't going to let this go easily. 

“Y’know…” You poke at him again. The playful contempt in his golden eyes gives you the go-ahead to make your case. “If you’re really feeling torn up about it, seeing you wow my family like that got me a little riled up.”

“Really.” Edward kisses the secure wrapping and releases you, standing to frame you against the counter.

“I’m serious, impressing them isn’t easy, (C/n) is probably plotting my untimely death to steal you from me right now, and just thinking about it has got me a little hot under the collar.” You run your hands over his back and through his hair, nuzzling into the crook of his throat.

“You’re laying it on pretty thick, don’t you think?” His hands smooth over your exposed thighs sending a shiver up your spine. You think you've got him, but he's such a tease sometimes you can never really be sure.

“Depends. Is it working?” You still, bracing for some line about ‘responsibility’ and ‘your family waiting for you.’

But then his hands are under your skirt, hooking into the sides of your underwear and pulling them down your thighs, leaving them to free-fall to your feet. You clutch his auburn hair in your fingers at the shock of open-air against your cunt.

“Do you think I could let you go back to that table smelling like this?” His sweet breath washes against your ear as he huffs a soft laugh. “I’d rather not go downstairs and pretend to care about football when I know you’re here, hot and ready for me.”

You can’t resist him any longer, pulling him close and kissing him with the desperation of a woman who needs to be back downstairs before dessert. His hand smooths over your cunt at first, smoothing over your swelling clit and teasing your hole before finding a focus, using the heel of his palm to hold your hood back as his slicked fingers grind the bud into a frenzy.

It’s all you can do to hold your breath while he touches you, cool fingers building a knot in your belly, smooth and steady as they batter you up into a frenzy. He adjusts his hand, his ring finger bringing a low ache from rushed preparation, but you welcome it, thighs shaking with the effort to stay open for him as your mouth falls open in a shaky gasp. Edward breaks the kiss to nuzzle your temple, seemingly unbothered until- 

“(C/n) is coming.” 

“Wha-” A particularly deep stroke has you biting your lip as you struggle to concentrate. “What the fuck does she want?”

“She’s going to ask you where I am.” His expression doesn’t match his words, still completely concentrated on ruining you despite the obvious issue.

“And what am I supposed to tell her?!” You hiss back right as she reaches the door.

“Hey (Y/n)? Have you seen Edward?” Her voice is enough of a mood killer that you have to shove your face into his throat to ground yourself in the moment. He adds a second finger, gaining speed, and you pray and hope to any god listening to this that she can't hear the squelches through the door.

“N-no.” You rack your mind for an excuse.“I think he went out for a smoke?” Nice one.

“Really? I didn't smell anything on him...” If all your blood flow hadn't been centralized below the waist at this point you'd’ve asked how the hell she knows what he smells like.

“That's cause he unh-” You slap a hand over your mouth to stop the moan before it can be recognized for what it is.“-he vapes!” Edward pulls back from your throat to look at you incredulously, but it's a little hard to take seriously when he's wrist deep inside you.

“Oh… Well, let him know if you see him that they’re playing charades and I need a partner. You know how it is.”

You forget to reply, too busy watching him spit onto his unoccupied fingers and mash the coolness against your clit, causing you to nearly spasm off the counter, losing the sensation as he silently laughs at having to hold you steady. She seemed to have taken your silence as an admission, as you can hear the door at the stoop of the stairs swinging shut after her. Thank God.

“Rub your spot, Sweet, come on, we have to be quick.” He kisses your temple and laughs a bit maniacally at the little whimper that escapes when you bring a hand down to your clit. “Surprisingly, she’s having trouble picturing me in a vape shop.”

You whine around a bitten lip, too far gone to listen to his ribbing. You’re building up to overstimulation with the sloppy way you’re rubbing yourself, and he must feel it too, because in the next second, his fingers are _vibrating._

“Come on, (Y/n), don't you want to finish up here and mop the floor with them?” You hadn’t even realized how hazy your vision had gotten until he grabs your chin and levels your lidded eyes with his. You nod sluggishly for him, not hearing a word. He laughs again, smiles wide. His teeth are pretty. 

“If you cum right now;” The buzzing grows stronger, your free arm spasming under you as you support yourself. “I’ll rub you raw after they are gone. You just need to come right now and win charades with me.” 

The buzzing inside grows too strong, and your vision goes white, pulsing in long pulls around his fingers as hot waves of sensation spread from your head to your toes.

Edward kisses you, soft and slow, muffling any sounds tempted to escape as you come down, abandoning the counter to clutch his sleeve as the twitching reduces to a tremor.

“Oh my god.“ You laugh, planting your face into his collar as you catch your breath. “I can't believe you used charades to make me come, I'm never gonna forgive you.” 

“I heard the top prize is a ten dollar gift card to…” He squints and checks again. “The Google Play Store.”

“Ew, what could you even do with tha-”

“(Y/N) come help with plates!” Your mother shouts up the stairwell, breaking the post-orgasm bliss.

“I guess I should run down to the corner store;” Edward smiles, smoothing your skirt down. “Don't want to blow your cover.” 

“(Y/N)! Plates!”

“Oh my god;” Your eyes may never return from the back of your skull. “Meet you downstairs?”

He kisses you sweetly one last time, pulling you close and brushing some stray hair out of your face.

“Downstairs.”

With that, he heaves himself out of the narrow sill, and you busy yourself cleaning up as fast as you can.

You just catch him hopping off the roof, and coming around to the front yard. He'll hear you no matter the volume, but you still shout the reminder;

“Do not fuck my cousin!” 

**Author's Note:**

> send in reqs at tonesplash.tumblr.com


End file.
